


Under Covers

by orphan_account



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Degradation, Dirty Talk, M/M, Okay maybe a little plot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Dynamics, idek man just have your sin cake and eat it, this was for a dare
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 11:10:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15217895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "I'm also equipped with the most advanced social module developed by CyberLife - which means I legally don't have to take the bullshit you doled out on my hapless predecessor lying down. So if you don't make your to the briefing this instant I will be forced to drag you by your ridiculous facial hair. Well. That's my own addition."Gavin's new partner is infuriating, but they have a job to do and an objective to fulfil. A little undercover work never hurt anybody.I wrote the vast majority of this at roughly 2-6am and hold no regrets. Thanks for trying to fix the damage, Sam.





	Under Covers

God, this was a mess.  
  
With perfect unlucky clarity, Detective Gavin Reed could remember the look on that RK800's face in the evidence vault all those weeks ago. One corner of its lips had turned up in an echo of a self-assured smirk, and then there was only darkness and the cool ground. Spitting teeth and bloody fury upon awakening, he was more than relieved to find out the the fucking plastic menace they called Connor was gone. Made obsolete by some kind of ameliorated next model, or so the rumours went.  
  
He could even more unfortunately remember the first time he saw the smirk that Connor had, just for a moment, managed to capture a shadow of before leaving Gavin in a pool of his own blood. (At least it had only done it to destroy the deviant revolution. One-track-minded _fucking_  androids.) The RK900 model had approached him with a swagger that no other android he'd ever met had, clapped both hands onto the detective's desk and launched into an infuriating tirade. Equal parts disgusted and intrigued, he had elected to listen.  
  
"-ame is Conan. I'm one of the prototypes sent by CyberLife to assist North American precincts and experimentally engage in cases unrelated to other androids. The military already know I'm brilliant, of course, but the public needs convincing. A little heroism here and there." Gavin had tried to reply, vaguely offended and quickly becoming pissed, but Connor's terrifying successor had pressed a finger to his lips and grinned widely. Fucker was setting himself up to be bit if he carried on like this. "I'm also equipped with the most advanced social module developed by CyberLife - which means I legally don't have to take the bullshit you doled out on my hapless predecessor lying down. God, how it whined about you in its logs. No wonder you couldn't stand it, honestly. Now, my instructions stipulate in grueling detail that we're both assigned to a longterm undercover case, and if you don't make your way to the briefing this instant I will be forced to drag you by your ridiculous facial hair. Well. That's my own addition."  
  
A wink, a whistle, a merry stroll towards the meeting rooms. What in the fresh hell had CyberLife been thinking? At the time, he had seemed like a human. The kind of human Gavin had met too many times before, to his own detriment. But what else could he do but follow?  
  
\---  
  
And now here they were. Deep, deep, 20,000 fucking leagues undercover, posing as illegal bookers hoping to make a cheap buck from the poor saps who didn't know when to stop betting on anything they saw. From the horses to alcohol-fueled brawls to baseball. A bottom of the barrel assignment, in the esteemed detective's opinion. Before he could reason, Conan had ripped out its LED with a terrifying nonchalance and an awful sound like grapes against a cheese grater. Fowler's face had made it worth it, but it was gross. Despite Gavin's protests to the weary captain, they'd been set up in a seedy apartment that reeked of bodily fluids and told to pose as boyfriends in need of cash. It was like his own personal hell, made special and pretty just for him.  
  
Because Conan was pretty. Without the LED, chugging red food colouring like flat cherryade to temporarily dye its Thirium, the RK900 looked very much human and eerily attractive. Putting the strange sensation down to uncanny valley, Gavin had spent one night just looking at the symmetry of his sassy new tin can pal's face. The slight imperfections that had marred and realised the RK800 were all but gone, and the effect was intimidatingly beautiful even in rest mode. Almost like a great grizzled wolf baring its fangs. Which was to say, fucking terrifying.  
  
And it was warm. More often than not, the December weather forced itself through the shoddy architecture and to the one double bed they shared - reluctantly on the detective's part, but still. Conan didn't give a shit if Gavin curled up against its torso or fell asleep practically hugging its synthetic shoulder blades. Apart from a couple of scathing and raunchy comments that made him laugh nervously and bluster respectively, it was a silent understanding. So at least there was that.  
  
They (he) struggled on, taking down names and other less legal details about their desperate clients. It was hard and boring and felt rather unfair, but it was an objective. And Gavin Reed always accomplished his objective. Now where had he heard that before? No matter where the catchphrase came from, he was determined to stick out the next two months with Conan without complaining to Fowler. He'd never hear the end of this as it was. He could do this.  
  
And then came the kicker.  
  
\---  
  
"We're not convincing them," Conan all but blurted out one day as they jotted down dates and times and descriptions of who passed their ground floor fire escape and rattled the rickety rusting steps. (He did that sometimes, came out with some train of thought that almost seemed self-indulgent. His outbursts were depressingly human.) Gavin didn't reply, sulking over an earlier lost debate, but the android powered on. "I've heard talk that we're not together, and if we're lying about then we're probably lying about other things. Say, our sources." They were, of course, but not in the way these gamblers thought. "None of them wants to touch stolen money, much in the same way that they leave me alone when they see I have your pitiful ass to take care of." _Asshole._  
  
"So what?" Gavin muttered. A week and a half of dealing with Conan's abrasive bullshit had begun to cow him, in a way that probably looked mellowing from the outside but threatened to suffocate him with pure irritation. He tapped out a pattern on the desk with one hand and watched one of Conan's eyes follow the rhythm of his fingernails. That never stopped being creepy, but it was also kind of amusing. He leant back and rolled his own eyes. "They can't hear us fucking because we're cops and we're not fucking, big deal. I'll buy you a rose for your lapel if you want some romance in your life. Maybe I can slit your throat with it, get some adventure in there!" Sarcasm dripped from his words like cloying honey, but Conan simply hummed in response and stretched his arms just so up towards the ceiling. Gavin knew it was all voluntary, which of course was what made it piss him off so much in the first place.  
  
"That could work, actually. Well done."  
"What, the rose? I don't-"  
"No, you dunce. We should copulate. Loudly. A little physical evidence would do the trick."  
  
Choking on his sip of coffee, Detective Gavin Reed crossed his arms and laughed so heartily his chair swiveled around. It was a barking, wolfish laugh, and it was rather out of practice.  
  
"Oh, you're a fucking national treasure! Pretty funny for a bastard plastic cup." Which Conan certainly was. Even Connor, the asshole sent by Cyberlife in the artificial flesh, wasn't as bad as this semi-autonomous freak. Conan was quite the comic, though, he could concede that.  
  
"Say that to my synthetic polymer-coated derrière, _Detective._ You had a good idea for once, don't fuck it up with your this and thats. Besides, I'm likely a lot more fun to fornicate with than shaped polyethylene terephthalate." And with that Conan left to haunt the bathroom for another two hours, presumably to make another report or obnoxiously pretend to shave again. Fucking android.  
  
\---  
  
Over the past few hours, he'd been trying to convince himself that Conan was simply making a cruel joke in the effort to appear human. Of course they'd hugged and kissed each other on the cheek in public and near the windows a couple of times, but that was a matter of professionalism. So what if it was enjoyable? He was a good actor. But if word got out that he'd saved his cover by literally fucking an android, all would be lost.  
  
So why, then, did his heart jump in his chest when Conan stalked into the bedroom shirtless with a ball of clothes wadded up in his perfect, horrible hands?  
  
Looking him up and down impassively, Conan seemed to appraise the shorts and t-shirt he had elected to wear to bed and chuckled lowly. The sound prickled up and down his spine like razor blades against a wire fence, smooth and salient and not at _all_ sensual. His breath hitched momentarily, and Conan blinked.  
  
"Hm. You actually thought I was joking." It was the most confused Gavin had seen the RK900 since...ever; if he'd had an LED still nestled in his temple, it surely would have been flickering yellow like nobody's business. "I hadn't forseen that an ego like yours could be the grand curtain for so little self-esteem, but here we are." There was a gentleness in his tone that seemed out of place, and in an attempt to diffuse the tension Gavin flipped him two birds and rolled over. Perhaps, he suggested in slightly less eloquent terms than used here, the RK900 would kindly come to bed and rest for their early start tomorrow.  
  
"Aww." Nope. Fuck no. "Aren't you going to kiss your boyfriend goodnight, first? Wait, no, you aren't. And you won't, either." That was it. "Probably because-" Gavin stood up, glaring mad, and grabbed the android's cheeks in both hands to pull his smug face down and plant an angry kiss on those bloody lips. To his surprise, disgust, and...and nothing, Conan reciprocated with sneering enthusiasm. Whereas the detective had been attempting a quick peck, his partner didn't seem satisfied in the least. Which was odd, because he was just an android, but- and Gavin never found an opportunity to finish the thought because Conan's tongue was against his own, and the RK900's eyes were alight with a gleeful grey flame.  
  
Why wasn't he pulling away? Why was he willingly kissing a fucking android, why were his hands flush against Conan's chest but not pushing him away? Whilst Gavin was caught in a feedback loop of intellectual shame and dumb lust, the RK900 took the opportunity to clench both hands in fistfuls of dark hair and _yank_  like it was fucking God's will. It came so naturally to whine pitifully against Conan's lips that Gavin didn't realise that their pressure was gone until he opened his eyes. When did he close them again?  
  
Conan was looking down at him in what Gavin could only describe as disbelief, head cocked with a toothy smile slowly growing.  
  
"Oh my fucking God. You're kidding me. Of everyone, it's the racist, rodent-faced detective that takes the bait. I bet you're enjoying this, _officer."_ He was, and that was wrong and bad. He was, all the same. Time to stop.  
  
"Piss off." Rubbing at his mouth compulsively, the detective stumbled backwards across his own personal line in the sand and tripped over the rug. Fucking typical. And fucking typical that Conan caught him effortlessly with one hand, inches from the corner of the dresser.  
  
"That fall," Conan remarked conversationally with what Gavin thought was a determinedly neutral face, "would have resulted in Level Four trauma to your skull and turned it into a nice little blood balloon. I just saved your life, for the third time this week. Now are you going to roll over like that and sleep on this, or are we going to fulfil our objective quickly and effectively? Your choice. You're the real person here, after all." The hunted, laughing look in the eyes of what was in the end just a machine chilled him right through.  
  
What did he have to lose? The respect of colleagues that hated him already for getting the job done, and...and that was all. He'd barely finished nodding when Conan pounced, sending them both sprawling over the half-made sheets. Of course the former landed in a perfect crouch above him, smiling like a shark with too many teeth.  
  
"Good." And Gavin gave in. He'd agreed, and now it was all about getting the job done. Loud noises and physical evidence. That was doable. He held those objectives in his head for about ten seconds until Conan leaned in and kissed him. A real kiss, deep and slow and smiling. If he tried, Gavin could pretend that this was a person, an ex perhaps. And when he did, it became so much easier to kiss back. So much more satisfying to bite down on the android's bottom lip like it was just another drunkard.  
  
At that the RK900 broke eye contact for the first time, tearing at the buttons on Gavin's shirt like some kind of wild animal and manhandling it out from beneath him. The detective threw it away himself and wrapped his arms around his partner with a quiet noise of discomfort. Between the cool air on his chest and the warmth radiating from Conan, it was a sensory nightmare. He cringed back, not trusting himself to say another word.  
  
"God, you're so _easy,"_ Conan murmured right above his nose, hair mussed and hanging down from his ironically robotic position. "All I have to do is just a little..." Brow furrowed, he jerked Gavin's head to the side by a handful of hair and parted his lips contentedly at the resulting hastily-muffled whimper. "Brilliant. All that talking and talking - you never fucking shut up! And as it turns out, you're not like that at all. I'm frankly disappointed."   
  
A slap. A choked gasp. "It would have been fun to tussle, you know? It's been a while." A strange caress. A delayed intake of breath. "Then again, I should have known you wouldn't even _fight back."_  He sounded legitimately disgusted, which was encouraging. A harder slap, and a louder noise, and he didn't want to move but he was shaking. "Squirming little dogs like yourself, my dear darling Detective Reed, all piteous whining and bratty noises, never do. You learn something new every day, no?"  
  
There was a pause. Nodding shakily, Gavin cleared his throat as best he could with those ice-cold eyes staring down his own.  
  
"I..ah, I appreciate the enthusiasm, tin can. But we're not here to pay...that is, to play games. Let's get it over with." An admirable effort, if he did say so himself. Conan's eyes narrowed, but he made an affirmative noise and sat up. Perched on the edge of the bed with only a shaft of moonlight to see by, he resembled a statue more than anything else. A statue with tousled hair and the kind of even breathing that Gavin currently coveted.  
  
Eyes as round and innocent looking as dinner plates, Conan slowly traced circles over his hip with one hand. The fluttering touch was enough to get him going again, tiny traitorous muscle spasms throwing his abdomen upwards like in miniscule, almost-bucking motions.   
  
He lay an arm over both eyes to hide the desperation that was surely there and felt a sharp pain sinking into his collarbone. Conan's nails, dragged across his breastbone in four identical reddened lines as the android commanded him liltingly to, "Please pay attention.'  
  
'This is a delicate art, Detective, and it requires your full focus. The exact moment you fall apart, and how do I find it? Maybe it's this." Kneeling on the other side of the bed, Conan was well within range to run light kisses up and down his sides until Gavin shivered in protest. Cupping his face in both hands, the RK900 laughed lightly. "So thin and pale. So inferior. How long do you have left, I wonder? 30, 40 more years? Not enough. And in the end, it'll add up to nothing. Ooh, maybe it's _this!"_  
  
_Whilst_ Gavin had been very carefully not concentrating on his dick, Conan seemed borderline fascinated by it. Reminding his partner that they had a volume requirement to be hitting, he didn't so much suck as lick gentle, careful stripes that had the detective mewling like a kitten, babbling primal nonsense for seconds at a time. When he grew bored with that avenue of resistance, Conan lifted himself up and walked over to his own pile of supplies with a warning to Gavin to stay down. The food dye, bottles of Thirium and datapads were the only things Gavin had seen him take from it, but in that moment his imagination got the better of him.  
  
There was a click, accompanied by an obscene noise that made the detective wince as he stared at the ceiling and tried to regulate his breathing just a little more.  
  
"C-Conan? Are you-?"  
"Sh. You know, it could always be this."  
Two fingers, slick with some kind of lube that Gavin definitely hadn't brought himself, expert and regular in technique. His first instinct was to arch his back as high as could, which he did with a stuttering groan. Gentle but firm fingers forced his legs apart and changed their angle far too suddenly, drawing out an embarrassing, sustained whine. Three now, and he was keening like a lost puppy. What was he doing? Weren't they supposed to be...something about physical evidence.  
  
"Oh, it's definitely this one. Remember your objective, little Holmes?" A fourth. "I want you to be so loud for me, so so loud they can hear you screaming my name. They'll never doubt us then, will they? The strong pretty booker and his needy little slut, they'll say. And they'll be right about one thing." That last he whispered, so close it tickled as he withdrew his fingers. Gavin raised both hands to his face, determined to conserve dignity and not beg. Never would he plead anything from a robot with a fuckboy protocol.  
  
"And what's that?"  
"Well, you just so happen to be the neediest, most whinging, most pretty little slut I've ever met. Hold on tight."  
And with that he pushed in, breath imposssibly even, and Gavin stayed silent. On the one hand was his dignity. He could never live down anything that happened now. On the other, the objective. If he shut up completely, there would be no point to the exercise. "I can almost hear you puzzling it through," Conan purred coldly, now just a silhouette at the end of the bed. He seemed hellbent on making this as uncomfortable as possible. Then again, perhapd that was the only way an android could get their kicks. Gavin didn't care. "Don't be so boring."  
  
Then he rocked his hips back and forth, just once, and the detective moaned brokenly through his fingers even as he bucked up to meet the thrust. Unlike him, Conan couldn't feel tired, and so he set a regular rhythm to push forwards again and again and again. Occasionally he would laugh at Gavin's half-hearted attempts to quell himself, but for the most part he just listened and watched smilingly as his partner shouted and pleaded and hated himself for enjoying this fucking depravity.  
  
"Like an animal in heat." It was a cold, unsurprised comment.  
  
Gavin nodded with heavy-lidded eyes and kept up his warbling nonsense until the RK900 made a purely optional noise of frustration. "Jesus Christ, you're thick.Say my name, Gavi-Detective. That's what you wanted from this, that's the proof you need. Ask, plead, beg, I don't _care._ Just say my fucking name!" And so the floodgates of words opened.   
  
"Fuck!" breathed the detective haltingly, hands practically digging into the mattress. He'd been so determined not to say anything, but now he had a damned good reason. "Fuck me, fuck me, fucking hell, Conan! Conan, please! Fucking please, please, _please,_ Conan. Fuck me so hard, fuck me, make me fucking yours, fuck fuck fuck." And so it went on, a soliloquy of shame and sweat and dirty words. Perhaps sensing an opportunity, Conan began to thrust harder and faster, slowing every time he somehow sensed a coming climax. What kind of technology he was doing  _that_ with the keening detective didn't want know.  
  
Thrice over he edged them towards completion and away again, and Gavin's whining only got higher and faster and more desperate until he was practically screaming into a pillow to muffle the words. _"Please,_ Conan, please, I need to finish, _fucking hell Conan please_ fuck me until I finish, fuck fuck, I love you so fucking much, _fuck!"_ Whilst Gavin didn't think that he'd said anything out of the ordinary, Conan stiffened for a single moment before continuing. Faster, and faster, far past what was reasonable, until he finally decided to let them go. And then he did.   
  
For the android, that apparently involved a whole lot of nothing. Literally unmoving. Could androids even...surely not.  
  
As for Gavin, he was seeing stars. His face was flushed and blotchy, his eyes bright and wide and wet, his pupils blown. He hadn't felt like this in...such a very long time. Everything ached, but it was pleasant. He turned to thank the android, but Conan was putting on long trousers across the room with an unreadable face.  
  
"Thank you for the moment," he offered, genuinely for once, with both eyes fixed on the shivering wreck that was Gavin Reed. "I quite like feeling things, when I get the chance." Understanding dawned slowly on the detective's face as he reached for his pajamas, but for once he didn't feel angered or betrayed. Melancholy, perhaps. A power trip. Of course. He could almost see the feverish light drain from Conan's eyes, to be replaced by (albeit sarcastic) obedience. Truth be told, it was depressing.  
  
"Well, you never know." He winked weakly, suddenly self-conscious. "There's always someone who needs persuading."  
  
Conan smirked at him, but it was already an empty sneer by the time the words faded away. "I'd like that."  
  
God, this was a mess.

**Author's Note:**

> This started as PWP, but I've ideas brewing. If anyone shows interest in the potential story of Conan becoming deviant with Gavin's help - probably with more plot-necessary porn - then I'll try and write it.
> 
> EDIT: I don't really want smut associated with this account anymore, but I recognise that people enjoyed the story so I'm orphaning it for your amusement. If you'd like to continue the story yourself, feel free! Enjoy :)


End file.
